CAGE OF GOLD (1950)

Basil Dearden’s Cage of Gold is reissued here by StudioCanal in its ‘Vintage Classics’ label, but that may be stretching the “classic” category to its very limit—despite some strong performances and many well-handled visuals, it’s a somewhat unsatisfying film which never allows itself to be quite as hard-hitting as it could be. In particular, though the villain Bill—callous in his treatment of heroine Judy (Jean Simmons) and increasingly desperate—-is well-played by David Farrar, the counterbalancing good guy Alan (James Donald) is too uncomplicatedly nice to be interesting, and Judy herself is insufficiently developed as a character.

Still, it’s worth noting as a relatively unusual example of a British film consciously aiming for a noir style (at one point even directly referencing one of the Hollywood classics, 1946’s The Postman Always Rings Twice), and for the contributions of many Ealing Studios regulars—a reminder, again, that Ealing did much, much more than the comedies for which it is most famous.

Screenwriter Jack Whittingham dives straight into the main storyline, and he and Dearden keep things moving at a pace which helps Cage of Gold get past some of its dramatic weaknesses, although it also means that jumps forward in time can be rather abrupt and disconcerting. Judy’s a single woman and a painter in postwar London (though rather a conventional young lady, not a bohemian type at all), and is planning eventually to marry doctor Alan, but she then runs into her wartime boyfriend—former Wing Commander Bill—and quickly falls back into love, or at least infatuation, with him.

A montage of such diversions as a fairground, aeroplanes (how modern!), a boxing match and a horse race show her affair with Bill as a whirlwind of fun, unlike her seemingly rather staid relationship with Alan, who is politely peeved at the way she now ignores him. But there is a question mark over the source of Bill’s money, and a chance encounter with an acquaintance of his—witnessed by Judy—reveals he has been engaged in smuggling. The audience’s suspicions are further raised, even if hers are not raised enough, when he announces he wants to borrow £5,000 (about £150,000 in today’s money) to invest in a helicopter business; Dearden makes a point here of dwelling on Bill’s eyes as he breezily suggests that Judy’s family might come up with the cash, and they look far from trustworthy.

Narrating the plot further would spoil the film’s surprises—and there are plenty of them, albeit not always entirely plausible—but a later development sees Bill in Paris at the Cage d’Or bar (from which comes the title, though nobody in the film is in a “cage of gold” in the metaphorical sense you might expect) where it becomes obvious that he is also continuing a personal relationship with the singer Marie (Madeleine Lebeau) and a business one with the club’s owner (Herbert Lom), even if the details of whatever scams they have been running are not wholly clear.

He also tries to get money from another young Frenchwoman, Antoinette (Maria Mauban). The naming of the two principal French female characters as “Marie Antoinette” may be a touch of humour from Whittingham, especially given that Antoinette’s father is identified as Duport—Adrien Duport was a politician in revolutionary France—but in any case, he (Grégoire Aslan) has one of the film’s best scenes where he unexpectedly turns the tables on Bill, who’s now doubled his ambitions to £10,000.

Whittingham’s writing is effectively snappy without being excessively terse, and the occasional wisecrack (like the Postman reference) doesn’t get in the way. The final twist is a clever one, and he is often good at conveying the background to the story without seeming to spoonfeed the audience, although some things can remain annoyingly vague.

More important than the writing for Cage of Gold’s noir credentials, though, are the visuals—and it certainly does look good, thanks to cinematography and art direction by Ealing regulars Douglas Slocombe and Michael Relph respectively. The noir style is often visible in Slocombe’s lighting, as well as in the way Bill’s villainy—and irresistible personality—are suggested when he is seen towering over Alan and Antoinette in the frame.

The fluid camerawork in an early Tube station scene brings Judy and Bill’s encounter to life; the Paris exteriors come across impressively and help to open up the film beyond its more commonplace London settings. And there’s often flair in Dearden’s direction, too, for example with the kinetic sweep of the crowd pushing Judy and Bill onto a Tube train. The musical score by Georges Auric is not as original as his work for some of Ealing’s comedies, although having a French composer write for this movie is appropriate; the pianist in the French nightclub is Léo Ferré, later to become a well-known name.

Among the cast, it is, as so often, the bad guy who stands out. Farrar had originally been given the rather dull role of nice Alan but wanted to play Bill instead, and you can’t blame him; the character is magnetically attractive yet also seems to be completely amoral, though what’s going on inside him is always a teasing mystery. Does he genuinely love Judy? Or is he simply an exploitative conman? Or, an intriguing possibility, both? Farrar does much to exploit the character’s potential though we never get the revelation of full psychopathic monstrousness that we expect is coming.

Judy is much plainer to read, and though Simmons is believable enough, she never quite draws us into the character, for example underplaying one key moment that could be much more dramatic. She had by this stage in her career had some roles in important films, for instance in David Lean’s Great Expectations (1946) and Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet (1948), and was on her way to being a major star: Cage of Gold may not have challenged or excited her, and the writing doesn’t give her the same kind of interest as Bill.

In smaller parts, Lom is underused as the Paris nightclub owner but Harcourt Williams stands out as Alan’s twinkling father, as does Gladys Henson as their salt-of-the-earth servant. The credits claim the film is “introducing” Lebeau although she’d had several screen roles before, most notably as Yvonne—the woman who defiantly sings the “Marseillaise” at Rick’s Café Américain—in Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca (1942). The naming of the black bartender Sam (uncredited) in Cage of Gold could conceivably also be a reference to the black pianist-singer Sam (Dooley Wilson) in the Humphrey Bogart classic.

Unlike another Dearden film recently reissued by StudioCanal, The Ship That Died of Shame (1955), Cage of Gold isn’t much concerned with the social context of ex-servicemen turning to crime. (His next movie, 1951’s Pool of London, would also deal with smuggling—this time by merchant seamen, though.) Bill’s a former RAF officer, and he and Judy met during the war, but the movie could easily be set in the 1930s. Discussions between Alan and his father about the relative merits of private medical practice and work for the then-new National Health Service briefly suggest another topical angle, but again it’s not pursued far.

Cage of Gold is more interested in Judy’s dilemma: having to choose not only between two men but also between two competing versions of the truth about Bill. However, Bill is a much more compelling character than her, and we don’t care much who she ends up with.

Yet at the same time, the film lacks the cynicism of the best noir. Despite Farrar’s best efforts, it never really seems possible that Bill will succeed in his wicked schemes: at heart, Cage of Gold is a lot more conservative than the storyline (complete with a daring reference to abortion) might suggest. Contemporary critics saw it as a routine outing—Howard Thompson in The New York Times calling it a “shiny but transparent shellacking of an old boot”—and they were right.

UK | 1950 | 83 MINUTES | 1.37:1 | BLACK & WHITE | ENGLISH

Blu-ray Special Features:

• NEW 4K restoration of the film. The new restoration from the camera negative showcases the film well, and although the noir style of lighting is not maintained throughout, at its most intense, it comes across powerfully. The fact that a 10-minute discussion of the costumes by Liz Tregenza is the only bonus feature implies that there may not be all that much to say about this essentially rather slight film…
• NEW Costume and Character: Liz Tregenza on Cage of Gold. Tregenza, a lecturer in cultural and historical studies at the London College of Fashion, devotes this brief documentary to Jean Simmons’s costumes, so the disc lacks anything on other aspects of the film. Still, it’s interesting to get this different perspective, and Tregenza has some insightful points to make about the role of costume both in building character and in building the image of the performer. She believes that Simmons, at this point making the transition from teen to adult roles, wore many of her own clothes for Cage of Gold.
• Behind-the-scenes stills gallery. About 10 images from the production, in which the settings and signage catch the eye more than the cast and crew.
• English subtitles.

Cast & Crew

director: Basil Dearden.
writer: Jack Whittingham.
starring: Jean Simmons, David Farrar, James Donald, Madeleine Lebeau, Maria Mauban, Herbert Lom & Bernard Lee.